Never the Same
by hpislife1226
Summary: This is a continuation of the story 'Never the Same' that I previously posted (please read that first, I am the same person I just forgot my old account.) Jessica's life will never be the same again after an asteroid hits the moon, and sends everything she knows into chaos...


Wednesday, June 1

We had power at school for about two hours this morning, so we actually reviewed for the big test in science and we watched a movie in social studies. And then the power shut off again. It's so weird going to school with no power. It's dark and muggy pretty much all the time, even though it was sunny today. I can't really see anything in my locker but it doesn't matter, anyway, because we don't need books for any classes. "I really don't see how they're going to keep school going for another week," my friend Daniella said to me.

"I mean really. Half the teachers aren't here, it's dark, nobody cares. I'm going to ask my mom if I don't have to go anymore."

"My dad hasn't been home since the accident, and Elisa's staying with me now, otherwise I probably wouldn't go," I told her.

"My dad hasn't been home either," Daniella said. "We think he died." "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, feeling awkward and not exactly knowing how to respond to it. I guess it was kind of like the situation with Elisa's parents. She couldn't be sure if her father and mother have died. She could never be sure. "It's okay," she said. "I'm not the only one." That's true. Pretty much everyone knows somebody who's been missing since Wednesday, May 18. Two weeks ago today. Two weeks ago today, when life changed forever.

Thursday, June 2

Grandma came over today. She hasn't had power and even though we don't either, it was 92 degrees this afternoon and I guess she wanted to sweat it out with somebody else. "This is the hottest spring I can remember," she said as we sat out on the patio, basking in the burning sun. "Except for maybe '59. That was the year it was 100 five times during the summer. We didn't have air conditioners back then, so we can deal with it now."

"But you had fans," I protested.

"And refrigerators," Peter added. "You also had working ovens so we could have good dinners."

"Speaking of which," Mom said, "we're going to have to start eating the canned stuff. I know it's gross and I don't want to eat it, either, but we have no choice. There's almost nothing left in the pantry and we can't exactly go to Stop N' Shop whenever we want to, now."

So for dinner we had soup. Grandma taught Mom some old-school trick to make the oven work with a lighter even though the power's out (the power went out all the time in the 50s and 60s!") so we were able to have it hot. Grandma made Mom eat two bowls of soup. "You're pregnant now, you can't just go around eating nothing!" She said. I don't think Mom actually ate the two bowls of soup. She's the one that's so worried about the diminishing supply of food. I guess I probably should be, too. But I'm not going to start rationing yet.

Friday, June 3

Because we have the Regents test tomorrow, we had a huge review in which we were assigned a classroom and a random teacher would literally read from a review packet to us. The power came on for about an hour in the middle of the day, but we didn't have a real Earth Science teacher in our classroom, so they didn't bother showing a slideshow. We couldn't get lunch so we basically didn't stop reviewing the whole day, and in the middle the black girl named Ashley raised her hand.

"Yes?" The teacher asked.

"Do I really have to pay attention? I mean seriously, what's the point of passing this test? Does it even mean anything anymore?"

"Well, it's your opinion," the teacher said. "You don't HAVE to do anything, but I would suggest you try to the pass the test. It's going on your college application." "As if there's going to be colleges by the time we're 18," the girl said, and sat back down. After school, Mom picked us up (the bus service was discontinued on Tuesday) and we drove around looking for open places, but now it's literally just a few of the department buildings and the post office. I don't even think the sushi restaurant is open. It probably can't be, since power is so infrequent now. Although, I don't see how they could need much electricity for raw fish… It wasn't hot today. In fact, the high was only 69 degrees and right now it's only 57 outside. The weather's been really bipolar lately.

Saturday, June 4

The test was SO hard. It's not like I didn't think it was going to be, but I really thought I would know more. Me and Elisa tried to review in the car. "We need to know the eight types of landmasses? What the hell?" "I don't know that," I said. "What else is there?" She feverishly flipped through the review packet but then Mom said, "we're here!" She wished us good luck and told us to leave our phones in the car (which was smart because we were going to have to hand them in anyway) and we went into the school. The test was in the gym. About 85% of the eighth grade was taking the test, so you're talking about 300 kids crammed into a hot, humid, dark, dank gym. They had the doors open for some natural sunlight and some cooling off (even though it was 85 degrees outside) but it didn't really work because of everyone stuffed together. The proctors looked like they all wanted to kill themselves. I know I did. "Remember to please bubble in your answer on the Scantron in heavy, black marks," the proctors said as they walked by. "We understand it's dark in here and there's nothing we can do about it, but please try as hard as you can." I'm guessing I got at least half of the questions wrong based on my inability to see the Scantron. A lot of people didn't show up to take the tests, which made the proctors (who were just teachers and people who worked in the office) even more annoyed because they had to individually mark "Absent for entire test" on the Scantrons. I heard one of the proctors say, "It's not like it even matters anymore," as he bubbled somebody's Scantron in. We were allotted three hours to complete the test (10:00-1:00) but because I didn't know anything I was done in less than two hours. We were allowed to leave early, we just had to summon a proctor over and they would have to make sure that we bubbled in every answer, and then they would take the test booklet and the Scantron away from us. And then, another proctor had to escort you out of the gym. Elisa wasn't done for another thirty minutes, so I waited on the curb outside the high school. My mom said she'd come at 12:15 to see if we were done, and Elisa had pretty much just finished by the time my mom pulled up.

"Was it hard?" Mom asked.

"Yeah," Elisa said. "Really hard," I said. "But it's not like it matters, anyway. Who knows if there's even going to be colleges by the time we get older? Who knows if there's even going to be school next year?"

"Who knows if we're going to be alive next year?" Mom didn't even answer. She just kept driving.

Sunday, June 5

Now that gas is up to $8.85 a gallon, Mom is really trying to make sure she doesn't have to drive anywhere that isn't absolutely necessary. Although if Elisa's brother had came home he would have definitely called, at least, we didn't care, so we walked across town.

"Hey, we have electricity!" Elisa said as we walked on to her street. It was pretty crappy day outside, 75 degrees and cloudy with the eerie feeling of thunderstorms, so we ran to her house and turned on the air conditioning. It felt so good. Even when we have power (which is very, very infrequent and usually only lasts for less than an hour per day) Mom never turns on the AC because it takes a very long time for the house to cool down, anyway.

"I miss staying here," Elisa said gloomily as we walked around the house. "It's been so long."

"You'll come back," I said. "When your parents come home." I wanted to make her feel better.

"If," she corrected me.

We walked home in the rain, not even caring. Elisa was sad, though, so it wasn't fun. I can't blame her. I at least have Mom, and Peter, and a baby to look forward to in the fall, but Elisa has no one. Her brother's alive and probably so is some of her outer family, but they don't live anywhere near here. And her parents are dead. They're more than likely dead.

Monday, June 6

I didn't go to school today. I didn't feel very good. It was raining and pretty chilly (only 64 degrees at noon) so it definitely wasn't improving my mood at all. Elisa stayed home, too. Mom didn't really mind. "Can I have lunch?" I asked. "No," Mom responded sternly. "It was your choice to stay home from school and you don't normally eat lunch on weekdays. So no, you can't have lunch." "Ok, I was just asking," I said. "You don't have to be so sassy."

"Don't call me sassy!" She said. "It's not funny!" And then she started crying. It's not like I even said anything bad. Peter and Elisa looked at me like she was on drugs and we all walked out of the room, into my room. "Um, is there a reason she's crying?" Peter asked.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything," I said. "She just freaked out."

"It's the hormones," Elisa said. "She's pregnant. Pregnant women do some pretty weird things."

Pregnant. It's so weird to think that my mom is actually pregnant.

Tuesday, June 7

We went to school today. It was nice out-about 70 and sunny, but I still didn't want to go.

"You have to go," Mom said. "There's only three days left. Come on. Don't you need to review for your math regents anyway?" "But I'm good at math," I said. "And you said so yourself, it doesn't matter anymore." Mom said she wasn't going to argue anymore and she drove us to school. Attendance is down to about 30% now. "Where is everybody going?" A girl named Dakota asked in homeroom. "They're leaving," said Mrs. Weiss. "Going inland. My husband and my mother-in-law left the other day. I was going to leave, too, but the school wouldn't let me. They won't give me a teaching job next year if I left. So I'm going on Saturday. Hopefully I'll be able to find them." "But where exactly are they going?" I asked. "Ohio," Mrs. Weiss told me. "I don't know how much better things are there, but we don't have to worry about the floods. But there they have to worry about earthquakes, I think. Everyone has their own checks and balances." So basically, you're not safe anywhere. Wednesday, June 8 Mom called her OBGYN's house today. His office is closed but he's going to take her in for her 17 week sonogram soon. She's already four months pregnant. I can't even believe it.

Thursday, June 9

The last day of school. It was shadily pretty sad. Last days of schools are usually fun and happy, but not this one. It's the last day of middle school and we don't even have a graduation to look forward to. There's no yearbook and more than half the grade wasn't even there. There was a little banquet, and of the near 400 kids that are in our grade, there were only about 150 kids there. It was in the cafeteria, the hot, smelly, dark cafeteria. Oh, and there really wasn't much food. Some muffins and orange juice. Better than what we've been having at home, but still. Principal Reagan spoke at the banquet. "I know this isn't an ideal last day of school," she said. "There's no games and no graduation. No scrambled eggs and bacon and bagels and coffee and music. And I'm sorry for that, and you should have more. But I just want to take this time to say that it has been my pleasure being your principal for these past three years. Most of you, not all of you, have made a visit to my office at least once in middle school (I got sent in seventh grade because I was texting my mom in math) and even though you guys make the hair on my head grayer ever day, I really do love you guys. A lot of your parents have been saying that you won't be coming back for high school in the fall, and we've had an abundance of teachers notify us that they won't be returning, either. Right now we're planning on a new school year starting Tuesday, September 6. We'll definitely be notifying you in the future. Have a great summer!" Everyone clapped, and for one second we were cheery, until we went back to being sad. It was cloudy and INSANELY humid outside, which made the cafeteria feel like hell on earth. "Do you want to go home?" I asked Elisa. "Yes," she said. "Please!" I texted Mom and she came to pick us up. I said bye to most of my friends because a lot of them aren't certain if they'll be leaving over the summer or if they're staying. Mom's never mentioned leaving. I asked her about in the car. "No, we're not going to leave," she said. "Our whole family is here. Grandma, Grandpa, all the aunts and uncles. Besides, we're fine. We might have to eat canned foods and yeah, there's no electricity, and gas might cost nine dollars a gallon, but we're fine. We're a lot better of than most people." A lot better off than most people. I wonder how most people are living, then.

Friday, June 10

The math regents wasn't very hard. We actually had electricity at the school for about an hour during the test, and the AC turned on and I could actually see my Scantron, so it wasn't too bad. The electricity turned off again, of course, (god forbid it ever stayed on for more than an hour) but it wasn't horrible. After the test, Mom took us out for ice cream. Turns out there's this little place right outside town that doesn't use electric refrigerators, so they've been fine. It was 80 degrees and brightly sunny today, so my ice cream melted. "To summer!" Peter said. "To summer!" We all rejoiced, laughing as our ice cream dripped down our arms. It's going to be a long summer.

Saturday, June 11

Speaking of summer, I guess today was actually technically the first real day of summer, because we didn't go to school at all. So naturally, because it's the first day of summer, the temperature hardly hit 60 and it rained all day. "I don't see how it can be so cold in June," my mother said, as she checked that it was only 58 degrees at noon. "I heard the temperature's supposed to go down to 49 tonight. In June! And to think that hit 90 on May 10th!"

"It's just a cold blast," Elisa said. "I saw on the weather app that it's supposed to be in the 80s all of next week."

"Good," Mom said. "We could use the heat."

"Or the cold," I said. "If it's going to be 80 degrees doesn't that mean it's going to be 80 degrees inside, too?"

"It was 92 degrees last week," Peter said. "Our house wasn't even that hot."

"If we keep the doors closed, it should be fine," Elisa said. "A couple years back we lost power during a heat wave for six days, and the temperature was over 95 every day. We kept the doors closed and kept the house to at least 80." "That's the key," Mom said. "We need to keep the doors closed," I finished. Like I said, it's going to be a really long summer. Sunday, June 12 They weren't kidding about it warming up. This afternoon, the temperature had hit 86. Although that's not brutally hot, it's almost 30 degrees warmer than it was yesterday, so we spent the whole day outside. I really wish we had a pool. People with pools can still go in them. I think. I mean, why couldn't they? "I want to go to the beach," Peter said, in all seriousness. "Oh wait..." "I don't think you'd want to go to the beach," I said, almost laughing. "Or what's left of it." Considering that the water came up to towns that aren't even considered part of the south shore, I highly doubt there's any beach left. The beach is now probably about 5-10 miles further north and is in the middle of a residential neighborhood.

Monday, June 13

I guess today is actually the technical first day of summer. It's the first weekday that we don't regularly have school, I mean. It was near 90 degrees today and me, Elisa, and Peter decided that we would walk around the neighborhood and see if anyone's pool are open. "The Donahues have a pool," Peter said, and we walked over to their house. Nothing. They were home, but we couldn't hear or see anyone in the backyard, and if they had no power and had a pool, that's where they would be. "So do the Katzes," Elisa said, and we found that their backyard was dormant as well. "I think a lot of people closed their pools," I said. "Or just didn't open them. There's no electricity so no heaters work. And cleaners, too." "I wish we had a pool," Peter said. Sometimes Peter's wishes are just too obvious.

Tuesday, June 14

We all woke up early today, because last night the temperature hardly dipped below 80 and the temperature was at 85 by eight in the morning. Mom was pacing around. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Lots of things," my mom replied. "An asteroid hit the moon. We haven't had any sort of electricity for three days. The temperature's supposed to hit 95 today and it's only June. A lot of things are wrong!" "But what are you worried about?" I asked her. "Your pacing around, something's definitely wrong." She sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you. My OBGYN-you know, the birth doctor who I've went to a couple times- just called me and said she's closing the practice. There's no electricity and most of her patients have left anyway. I would be fine if I was a little bit further into the pregnancy. I'm supposed to have my twelve-week sonogram soon and I'm worried. I'm 41 years old and being pregnant at 41 means that I can have a miscarriage or get gestational diabetes, among other things. And without a doctor..." "You'll be fine," I said. "My friend Michael from school's father is a gynecologist. He hasn't left from what I know. He can probably help you out." "You think?" She said. "Do you have his number?" I gave it to her, and she went into the dining room to call him. She came back afterwards, looking a lot happier. "He closed his practice, but he's still going to see me," she told me. "He has all his equipment and set it up in his basement. I'm going on Friday."

Wednesday, June 15

We had electricity for two hours this evening, which was enough time for Mom to cook a dinner of macaroni and cheese (Kraft box, of course) and watch the news. "We aren't getting any channels," I called from the living room, into the kitchen where Mom was watching the dishes. She dried her hands and walked out. "Nothing?" "Cartoon Network and the Spanish soap operas, but that's about it," I said, scrolling through endless channels that read SERVICE NOT AVAILABLE. CNN, ABC, NBC, nothing. Eventually we got to a channel that was airing Chinese news. "Why are we getting Chinese news?" I asked. Mom shrugged. "I don't know. The satellites are messed up. They're probably getting American news in Germany." She chuckled at her antics. "Turn on the subtitles." They gave us a pretty good summary of what was going on over there. Apparently China accepted some 30 million Japanese refugees after mainland Japan was completely submerged by a tsunami, most of whom were living in evac camps across the country. The tidal waves in Shanghai were unforgiving and an estimated one million were dead; the land in Hong Kong was invisible from space although the top halves of the tallest skyscrapers could still be seen, and at least 100,000 people were estimated to be stranded in such buildings. Food distribution in the far west countryside would continue until next week, but whoever chose not to move to a city or evac camp would be on their own after that. The government was reminding everyone to remain patriotic, even in the toughest times. "Doesn't sound like they're doing much better than us," Mom said, shrugging. "Come on, I made dinner."

Friday, June 17

Courtney is leaving. Her, Liam, and Daniella came over this morning to bid us farewell. I'm pretty upset about it, because we're really close with them and me and Elisa have been hanging out with them to get an escape from each other. Believe it or not, living with your best friend for a month when the world is coming to an end is not all fun and games. "Where are you going?" Mom asked after she told us. "Courtney, I don't think there are many places doing well. We're not flooded here, you still have food, we're doing fine. Are you going down south? It's even hotter there." "No," Courtney responded. "We're going to Canada, to live with my mother. She said they're getting regular government food rations and it's cooler up there." "So you're just going to leave?" Mom asked, a tear running down her face. "Courtney, you're one of my best friends…just because they have food rationing…" Courtney was crying now, too. "I have to go," she said. "The food here is running out, Deb. There's no government handouts. If there's going to be, it's probably less than they have in Canada, since there's less people up there. The water's also not going to stay where it is forever. Didn't you hear about Japan? It's gone. Just gone, the entire country. Long Island isn't going to be around for much longer either. You…you should find someplace to go too, Deb." They said good-bye and reminded us that our house was there's to use now, and then left. It's probably the last I'll ever see of them. "Mom, what Courtney said….are we going to have to leave sometime?" I asked. "No," Mom answered. "We're not going anywhere."


End file.
